Sword of Draskara (Casters of Syndrial Book 2)

by Rain Oxford

  Suddenly, I woke again to find Keira shaking me frantically. She sat back with a relieved sigh when she saw that my eyes were open. “If I weren’t a goddess, you would have given me a heart attack already.”

  “Sorry, beautiful.” I patted my shirt as if my jacket was there. “Where’s my book?” She left the kitchen and returned a few seconds later with my book and pen. I opened my book to the coffee-vision spell and tore it out. “Kitmas.” The spell burned to ash. The book magically reformed the page, sans coffee-vision spell.

  I used the chair to pull myself up and settled down. My mug hadn’t broken when it hit the floor, so I rinsed it off and poured myself another cup.

  Keira rolled her eyes. “I thought you were taking it easy on the coffee.”

  “My mother, who I thought was dead up until a few days ago, is in my living room. My brother, who I finally got back, has been captured by a god, and I have to decide between giving him the most powerful weapon of Syndrial and being responsible for Luca’s death. I say that calls for a few drinks.”

  My feeble attempt at humor was completely lost on her.

  I drank my second and third cup in silence. “How long was I out?” I finally asked.

  “A few hours.” She pulled out some leftover spaghetti and put it in a pan to heat. She hated the microwave.

  “That’s all? Good. How is my mother holding up?”

  “She was horrified when you showed up bleeding out, severely burnt, and unconscious. How did you get back here?”

  I gestured to my ring. “This is a ring I got from Rilryn. It enables me to return to the last place and time I had been. I need to sneak in, though. I need to outthink Maori.”

  “I wasn’t exactly happy to see you in that condition, either,” she said.

  I took her hand, gently pulled her into my lap, and kissed her. “I know. I’m sorry. I was doing pretty fair until Maori showed up. I can’t go again without the book, because if Maori catches me without it, Luca is dead.”

  She nodded slowly. “The book isn’t worth your life, or his.”

  “But if he gets it, he could kill you.”

  She nodded again. “We don’t know that I’m one of his targets, though. I don’t really know anything about him because the dead mean nothing to me and I can’t even enter his realm. With any luck, he only wants to control and destroy my people.”

  My stomach was twisted into knots. I couldn’t give Maori my book and if I didn’t, Maori would kill Luca. I had to take it with me, but I also had to try to sneak Luca out again. “Painter has trouble with invisibility, but he’s a master of disguise,” I mused aloud.

  “Although you and your twin have different powers, the roots are the same.”

  I had experimented a lot with my Writer power. I could create objects, but that was the most strenuous use of my abilities I had discovered. Transforming simple objects into others or changing the color of something was easier. I enjoyed redecorating my apartment until I realized the expensive consequences of doing so. Using magic on an object left residual energy on it, and that fried electronics as easily as electrical charges. Writing my novels on my laptop was a test of self-control; I couldn’t use any magic near it or I would lose everything on the laptop and flash drive.

  The first time I returned to my apartment from Syndrial, I had become accustomed to magic. I spent hours transcribing my book into MS Word before I reached for my coffee cup. It was an inch out of reach, so I called it to me automatically. My power brushed across my computer and wiped it like a strong magnet.

  Keira went with me to the store to pick out a more durable laptop, and I picked out the only one that didn’t fuck up when I tried the demo. Keira actually had an easier time of it. Although she was a goddess, she was used to controlling her magic.

  She scooped the warmed spaghetti into a bowl and set it in front of me. “You need to eat. It will replenish your energy.”

  I didn’t want to eat, but I knew she was right. That didn’t make it any easier to eat.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, Nathan, but you made a mistake,” Keira said gently. “Painter hurt those you loved and that taught you to hold onto every bit of control you possibly could. As long as Luca was exactly what you thought he was, you were fine. Since you learned who he was, you’ve gotten worse. You don’t trust Painter to have any power over himself or anyone else. You need him, though. You can’t do this alone. No one could.”

  “I know.” I took her hand. Keira and I didn’t have a dramatic relationship. We trusted each other not to get emotional, overreact, or take our frustrations out on each other. “I knew what I did to Painter was wrong when I did it. I wasn’t being reasonable. That doesn’t mean I would take it back. I know my brother. Whether I like it or not, that same… capacity for destruction is in me. If I had gone through what he had, I would have turned out the same. He tried to protect me from that, but he ended up hurting me more than anyone could have. There have been times I’ve wanted to use magic the way he has and just take over everything. It would be so much easier if everyone did what I wanted to do.”

  “But you’re not him.”

  I finished my food and set the bowl in the sink. “I’m worse. Painter did what he did to protect me. I did what I did to make my life better. What’s to stop me from doing the same thing to others? If I would do that to my own brother, it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Then give him back his power.”

  “Even if it was possible, I can’t. I hate the Painter for what he did.”

  “Yet you love him,” Keira said.

  “He’s my brother. I mean, I know people who hate their brothers. I know people who have asshole brothers that have no redeeming qualities. Painter isn’t just my brother. We’re identical twins. I can’t explain it.”

  “I understand. You see everything you hate about yourself in him. He shows you the worst part of you,” she said. I nodded and she continued. “So you have to try not to be that, and in doing so, you become something worse. Has it occurred to you that he doesn’t like how he is, either?”

  “He said he wanted to be Luca.”

  “Maybe if you had accepted him as the Painter, he could have changed. There’s also the possibility that he’s what keeps you from making choices you’ll later regret.”

  “He’s a murderer. Besides, he’s gone. I have to save Luca.”

  “There are two sides to every coin,” Keira said, standing. She grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and left. The kitten had run off during my vision.

  When an idea came to mind, I pulled out my book and considered my words. I needed power, so writing in Ancient Syndrial would have been better, but I wasn’t fluent. Because I wasn’t controlling myself or my brother’s actions, I didn’t need to use my own true name.

  What I really needed was a way to turn it on and off. Well, since I was usually considered a geek, I knew exactly what I would use; I went to my bedroom and shuffled through my desk drawers until I found my Lord of the Rings replica ring. It was gold plated with the standard inscription.

  Without putting it on, I sat on my bed, opened my book, and wrote.

  When the Writer wears his Lord of the Rings ring, light bends around him, making him and anything he’s holding or wearing invisible to everyone around him.

  The sentence didn’t fade, just as I knew it wouldn’t. I was powerful. I slipped on the ring, but nothing seemed to happen.

  I grabbed the Book of Names off my desk and put it in another satchel. I didn’t like that it was just lying around, but I knew Keira wouldn’t have left it alone if she wasn’t confident in her ability to shield it.

  After getting my robe off the hook by the door and putting it on, I went to the kitchen, where Keira was heating some spaghetti for my mother and the kitten was sitting on the table. When I stepped in, Keira turned and frowned at me. The kitten’s ears flattened and he hissed furiously.

  “Can you see me?” I asked. “I’m trying out an invisibility sp
ell.”

  “I can sense you there and hear you, but I can’t see you.”

  “Does that mean I’m more powerful than you?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t take any offense. Magic meant little to her.

  “No, it means you did a good job. The kitten can obviously see you.”

  “Every cat on TV can see through an invisibility spell, so I’m not surprised. Will it fool Maori?”

  “I would be sneaky if I were you. It probably will, but don’t push it.

  “Okay. I’m going back.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.” Before I could disappear, the cat launched himself off the table at me with his arms spread and his claws extended. I jumped out of the way and the little psycho hit the ground running. He disappeared into the living room. “You might want to get that thing his shots before he spreads rabies around.”

  “He’s not rabid.”

  “Maybe not, but he still needs to be checked over by a vet. Have fun with that. There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”

  The room grew dark and when light returned, it wasn’t much. I was standing in the room where I had last seen my brother. Not surprisingly, it was empty.

  I searched the magic supplies for anything that could help me. Potions, three books, and a ceremonial dagger. I didn’t need the dagger, because I already had one. The books weren’t written in any language I knew, but I figured Luca might be able to read them, or I could learn later, so I slipped them into my bag.

  I stepped out of the room into another. It was round, about ten feet wide, with three doors and a set of steps leading down. In the center was a torch providing light. In my opinion, the place was too hot as it was. Nevertheless, a guard stood in front of one of the three doors. He wasn’t a robed faceless man; he was an actual person in black metal armor.

  The guard hadn’t noticed me, so I easily snuck up behind him. Not having anything to bludgeon him with, I drew my dagger, slipped off the ring, and pressed the blade against his throat. He slowly held up his hands in surrender. “You can’t kill me; I’m already dead.”

  “I bet you can still feel pain. Where’s my brother?”

  “Maori has a lot of prisoners, so you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

  “Luca! The Painter! Maori wants the Book of Names, so he took my brother.”

  “Oh, him. He’s in the dungeon, with everyone else.”

  I saw a scar around his neck and let him go. “How do I get to him?”

  He turned to face me with no fear in his dark green eyes. His hair was dark brown with strands light enough to be blond. He was tall for a Syndrial native at five-eleven, but he wasn’t built like I expected a bodyguard to be.

  “You give him what he wants. Maori hasn’t gotten to be the ruler of Kradga by letting a few casters beat him.”

  “And how hard did he spank you to make you loyal to him?”

  “I’m not loyal to him. I have no choice; he controls the dead. All of us are forced to obey him against our wishes.”

  “He can feed off your energy and control you as if he had your true names. Can he kill anyone?”

  “He’s a god, but I’ve never seen him kill anyone.”

  “If he gets the Book of Names, he could control the gods, people, and death. There would be no stopping him.” I couldn’t give up the book, even for my brother. That didn’t mean I was going to leave without him, though.

  “It doesn’t matter. You can’t fight him.”

  “I am the son of Set. My identical twin brother is the Painter, feared by thousands. I may not be known like him, but I will do whatever it takes to save him.”

  “Who are you?” the guard asked.

  “I am the Writer.”

  He looked unsure for a moment. “I’m dead no matter what. My son was taken by Maori, not because he displeased the gods but because Maori wanted to torture me. I hate Maori more than anything, but if he tells me to do something, I have to do it.”

  “Did he tell you to stop me?”

  “No. All he said was to guard his private room,” he said, gesturing to the door across from us. “As long as you don’t disturb that door, I’m under no obligation to stop you, but if you fail to fight him, my son will be banished from the tower and be trapped in Kradga forever. Are you honestly that confident that you can defeat him?”

  “No,” I said. “I know I will save my brother somehow, but I don’t have the experience to kill a god. I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you were that confident, it would be arrogance, which would get you killed. Down those stairs, you’ll find another level. Each floor is dangerous and full of traps and monsters. Be careful. If you can’t kill Maori, save my son. His name is Oren. He might be suspicious of you, so tell him I sent you. My name is Tokha.”

  “I will. Can you tell me anything about the traps?”

  “No. We never go through those tunnels; we use the portal lifts, which is guarded by him.”

  “Any chance I can slip by with invisibility?”

  “No,” the guard answered. “And it probably won’t save you from any monsters, either. It should help you get passed the other guards, but that’s about it.”

  “And you’re all here working for him against your will?”

  “Those of us with faces are. The faceless men are made of ground bones.”

  I descended the steps into the darkness and found myself in a hallway without light. Fortunately, I still had two flashlights in the pocket of my robe. I grabbed one and switched it on. The walls were only about six feet apart and the ceiling was six-two, meaning my hair brushed it. I was pretty damn lucky I didn’t suffer from claustrophobia. In fact, I was pretty lucky it was high enough at all.

  I pulled out the heart stone.

  It wasn’t surprising that there were traps; traps seemed to be popular on Syndrial. If I could create my rock creature, he could maneuver through the traps and show me where it was safe. The problem was that I didn’t have a number of rocks to make up my little creature.

  The solution was all around me.

  I really hoped the hallway walls weren’t all load-bearing. I knew all kinds of weird facts, but not about construction. After a few minutes of debating it, I decided I had to take the chance. “Omtakha,” I said, blasting a hole through the wall.

  I heard metal shift and dust filled the air, but when it settled, the roof was still above me, I was still alive, and there was a pile of rocks at my feet. I arranged them into the shape of my rock monster.

  The needle in my pen was cleaner than my dagger, so I used it to prick my finger again and bled on the heart stone. As I did, I imagined the creature coming alive and said, “Senfaws quesur, ques ineur.”

  Magic flowed into the stone and the rocks began moving in unison. I mentally ordered the creature to stand and maneuver through the traps. I felt like I was sending it to its death, but I knew as long as the heart stone was safe and wet with blood, the creature couldn’t be destroyed.

  The desperation to save my brother was growing, and that was only going to cause me to make mistakes.

  The rock creature started ambling along as gracefully as he could and I followed him with my flashlight. After about ten feet, the ground under my foot gave. I knew instantly that it was a pressure plate. Three feet behind me, a stone wall slid out of the ceiling and blocked my return. “Okay,” I said aloud. “I need to be careful to follow in your exact footsteps.”

  I did so. The first corner we came to was ninety degrees to the left. We walked for about thirty feet and then turned ninety degrees to the left again. The place was built like the temple; it was square and wrapped around some kind of center space.

  While we walked, I tried to come up with a name for the rock creature, but the only name that came to mind was Horta. Aside from being a bit silly and not at all fitting, it was better than nothing. We traveled for a fe
w minutes without incident until Horta tripped a wire and a dozen arrows shot out of the wall.

  They missed me and glanced off him, but it had been a close call. Next, Horta set off a pressure plate that filled the hallway with fire. I reacted instinctively to douse the flames with magic and to my surprise, it worked. Obviously, the traps weren’t meant for casters. We reached another set of steps and descended to a lower level. I wished I had a clue how many of these there were.

  The next trap wasn’t actually a trap, but a pile of snakes. They weren’t actively striking, but they did move slowly. If I had to guess, I’d say they didn’t care about me as long as I didn’t try to cross them. Unfortunately, I needed to cross them. This confirmed it for me that the traps were meant for commoners. “Tradje,” I said. I levitated myself up until I was floating against the ceiling, like a balloon. While I inched myself forward high above them, Horta walked through them easily. As I had suspected, they became active and struck him multiple times, but he was made of rock. I felt sorry for the snakes.

  Next, we came upon a dehydrated corpse, full of holes. I knew that meant the area was trapped. The body didn’t smell and there weren’t critters crawling in it. Horta waited blankly while I tried to find the trigger. It didn’t help to have Horta set it off if the entire hallway filled with arrows. Then I spotted a sword and figured it was probably useful, so I had Horta grab it after I backed all the way up to the stairs. My light was barely enough to see what was going on.

  As Horta picked up the sword, he stepped on another pressure plate. Three-foot-long spikes shot up from the floor and down from the ceiling. Horta was instantly dismembered. After a few minutes, the spikes receded and Horta reformed. He avoided that step.

  Once he was safely out of the danger zone, I carefully followed, making sure to step only where he had. We were able to avoid a number of traps this way. Many of them had pressure steps or tripwires.

  Then we came upon a threat we couldn’t avoid; a five-foot-long scorpion. “This world really needs to do something about its pest problem.”

  Unlike the snakes, the scorpion was aggressive before we even reached it. Horta had no trouble wrapping himself around the stinger, but he wasn’t large or heavy enough to hold the monstrous arachnid at bay. I couldn’t get close enough to its body to stab it with the sword without it getting me with its pedipalps.